


A Sorceress and Her Queen

by flowersonthemoon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/F, Infidelity, Magic, Miscarriage, Pre-Canon, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersonthemoon/pseuds/flowersonthemoon
Summary: Twenty years before the arrival of a young warlock in Camelot, Nimueh is made the court sorceress of Camelot.It is a position that will change her life - and, quite possibly, the fate of the kingdom.
Relationships: Ygraine de Bois/Nimueh (Merlin)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: Camelove 2021





	A Sorceress and Her Queen

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is written for day 1 of Camelove 2021! i may or may not have altered some of the pre-canon dynamics (depending on how much you believe from the show about the ygraine/nimueh/uther pre-canon friendship)

To be the court sorceress of Camelot was an offer that Nimueh could not refuse - though she came near to it. The rightful place of a High Priestess was upon the Isle of the Blessed, undertaking the ancient rituals and protecting the druids of the kingdom from various threats. Nimueh had spent twenty-five years - her entire life - training for the priesthood, the duty she had been born for. The last thing she wanted to do was use her gifts to entertain nobles.

But she couldn’t deny the strategic benefit of the king’s invitation. Uther Pendragon’s conquest had been a bloody one, and he was a new king, as yet untested by most of the neighbouring kingdoms. The seers of the Isle were never wrong, and foretold conflicts to come, but their visions could not always be precise. As court sorceress, Nimueh could be privy to the details that prophecies did not see fit to include.

It was not Nimueh’s preferred role to take. But it was, ultimately, her task to the serve the Triple Goddess, and in doing so serve the people of Camelot.

Her first day in court was a solemn occasion. Uther Pendragon had invited two more of the High Priestesses to attend, who observed as the king swore a vow of peace with the Isle of the Blessed and all those who practiced magic within the kingdom.

It was not something that any king or queen of Camelot had done before. It had never been necessary; though those on the Isle chose to live isolated from the rest of the world, it was still within Camelot’s boundaries, and as such, was its territory. To declare peace with magic users struck Nimueh as peculiar, almost amusing. It was like declaring peace with farmers, or market sellers. There had always been peace, and always would be. No king needed to make it so.

But she held such thoughts to herself, and inclined her head respectfully when the vow was finished.

The king returned to his throne, and then it was the queen’s turn to swear the vow.

Uther had had a distant gaze when swearing his peace with magic. But Ygraine Pendragon looked straight at the three High Priestesses, an intent blue gaze that seemed to pierce right through Nimueh.

Ygraine spoke quietly but firmly, and went into a deep curtesy when her words were done. She went back to her throne, but even with the queen turned away, Nimueh could still feel that gaze upon her skin. It was an unsettling sensation.

Then it was the turn of the High Priestesses. Nimueh hadn’t anticipated Uther’s vow of peace, but evidently her seniors had, as they kneeled and presented an offering of meadowsweet and vervain. They uttered a prayer to the Triple Goddess for the good health of the Pendragon dynasty, and swore allegiance to King Uther.

Nimueh couldn’t remember if priestesses had sworn allegiance to the last king. It wasn’t in itself an unreasonable gesture - but then, Nimueh thought. Farmers and market sellers. How many of them had knelt before the throne and personally taken such an oath?

It was thoughts such as those that would make her an asset to the Isle of the Blessed, Nimueh decided. Uther had so far shown himself to be a strong and considerate king, and Nimueh needed to see to it that he stayed that way. If any of his actions or decrees struck her as unusual, or targeted in their nature, then she would alert the Isle.

It was time for her to swear her own oath. As the two other High Priestesses rose and stepped back, Nimueh went forward and kneeled. Uther Pendragon’s stare could have rooted her to the stone. She stared back at him.

“I, High Priestess Nimueh, swear allegiance to the just and rightful king of Camelot,” she said. “I vow only to use my gifts for peace and honour, and to defend the people of this land. I hereby take my place as the court sorcerer of Camelot.”

Uther Pendragon smiled. “Camelot welcomes you.”

****

Life as the court sorcerer of Camelot was scarcely quiet. When she wasn’t partaking in councils with the king and various foreign dignitaries, she was meeting with nobles, assessing their children for magical abilities, or working with Geoffrey, the newest court genealogist, to reorganise the magical texts of the royal library. Her years of study on the Isle of the Blessed had granted her near perfect fluency in many of the old dialects, and she could spend hours at a time going through the castle’s archives, translating the records.

Then there were her walks with Queen Ygraine.

The queen had a hunger for magical knowledge, Nimueh was quick to learn. Afternoons spent strolling through the forest were filled with Ygraine’s questions, Nimueh’s winding answers. She could not divulge everything the queen asked of her - there were some secrets that even royals were not permitted to know. But Ygraine never seemed to mind the secrets. She was happy enough to hear the parts that Nimueh could talk about.

Before Nimueh knew it, their walks had grown, lunches along the river and horse races up the hills. And their conversations were no longer just about magic.

“What of your family?” Ygraine asked, one spring morning as they sat beneath the willows. “Will you ever see them?”

Nimueh gave a lazy shrug. “From what I know,” she replied, “they were glad to be rid of me. It shall hardly please them to see my return.”

Ygraine was quiet. When Nimueh looked to her, the queen’s expression was downcast, the look in her eyes something that Nimueh found hard to define. She inclined her head. “I do not blame them,” she said, more gently. “Each child that is taken in by the Isle is different, and some hail from wealthier families than others. Mine could not afford to feed another mouth, and so it was their good fortune that I was born with magic.”

“All the same,” Ygraine said, “it must wound one dearly to be separated from family.”

“They are my blood, but I do not know them,” Nimueh said. “It does not grieve me to live that way.” Ygraine still seemed troubled, and Nimueh sought to distract the queen from her sadness. “What of your family? I have heard you hail from an honourable line.”

To Nimueh’s relief, the queen laughed.

“Yes,” Ygraine said, “They are honourable people. I can only hope to carry as much honour as queen now.” She smiled at Nimueh. “It is their righteous spirit that drew Uther’s attention to me,” she confided. “My dear brothers fought at his side when he conquered this land. They could have fled, as some did, or take up arms with King Edward. But they chose to fight for Uther.”

“They are courageous men,” Nimueh remarked. She could think of few who would choose the uncertainty of a new monarch.

“And now dear Tristan is a knight of the realm.” Ygraine’s smile grew. “I had thought Agravaine would take up the knighthood with him, but it seems he has a greater taste for politics.”

“He will make a fine councilman,” Nimueh said. _If only…_

Despite Nimueh’s efforts to remain courteous, Ygraine seemed to know the path of her thoughts, looking at her with a knowing gaze. But she was not offended. Rather, she looked amused.

“If only he and Uther were to stop butting heads so often,” Ygraine said. She laughed. “He cannot be the eldest, but he’s determined to behave as if he is, and if his sister is queen, then he will bend the earth itself to make him equal to a king. Sometimes I think him half-mad… But I suppose that’s the way of brothers, isn’t it?”

Nimueh had no experience in the matter of brothers, but she had already come too close to being rude to the queen today, and even distressing her earlier. So Nimueh pursed her lips and nodded agreeably, and let the conversation turn to an upcoming banquet.

The walks went on, and the seasons shifted. It was startling, Nimueh would reflect sometimes, how rapidly she found herself at home in Camelot. There were still the mornings when she wished for the sight of the rowan tree from her window, rather than the bustling citadel. And there were times when she ached for the familiar sound of Celtic prayers, rather than the whispers of courtly gossip and servants at work.

But that sense of absence, of being away from home, was not felt as keenly as she had feared. It was the conversations, she came to realize. To talk openly and at length of the life she had known before Camelot kept home close to her heart, and lessened the sting of being away. It was unexpected to have found such a friend in Ygraine.

Summer turned into autumn, and with it came Ygraine’s sickness.

Gaius suspected it to be the same illness that was sweeping through the lower towns. Its spread was mostly under control at this point, and how it had penetrated the citadel to reach the queen remained a mystery.

The origin of Ygraine’s illness was not Nimueh’s priority. No sooner had Gaius presented his diagnosis to her had Nimueh gone back to her chambers and assembled the necessary components for her healing spell. She had scarce experience in healing; her expertise was hydromancy and elemental rituals, and only as an initiate had she been tested in healing a handful of times.

But Nimueh was determined to heal Ygraine now. It went deeper than duty, deeper than her role at court. Ygraine was her only true friend in this castle, the only person who knew her so intimately. Nimueh couldn’t stand to see harm come to her.

She went to Ygraine’s private chambers, where the queen had retired for the sake of her quick recovery. Ygraine smiled at her entrance, a wan expression as she lifted her head briefly from the pillows before fatigue pulled her back down again. Nimueh made her way across the room. Closer, she could see the sweat on Ygraine’s brow and the shivering in her hands. Nimueh put aside her spell box and set about rearranging the queen’s blankets. There was a small bottle on Ygraine’s dresser, still half-full of Gaius’ treatment.

Ygraine laughed when Nimueh brought the treatment to her, a weaker sound than Nimueh had become accustomed to over the months. She didn’t force the medicine upon Ygraine, but only relented when Ygraine took it in one of her hands to drink from soon.

“So,” Ygraine said, when Nimueh had finally settled down, “has Gaius found himself an apprentice?” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “You make a better nurse than many I’ve had before.”

Nimueh ought to have focused on setting up her spell. Instead, she shook her head with a wry smile. “Medicine is not my calling,” she replied. “I am here to provide my own expertise.”

She had expected Ygraine to be pleased by that - after all, it had become something of a custom among those able to afford it to utilise two forms of treatment, one herbal-based and the other magical. It ensured a thorough healing process.

Instead, Ygraine sank back and shook her head. “I am thankful for such generous use of your time,” she said, “but it’s not necessary. All I need is rest.”

Nimueh bit her tongue on a more direct challenge, and spread the contents of her spell box for Ygraine to see. “It is a simple spell,” she said, “it is no burden on my time. And it would please me to heal you.”

But still Ygraine refused. “I assure you, I am healing perfectly well. You needn’t trouble yourself, Nimueh.”

Nimueh wished for a moment that she had pursued more healing examinations on the Isle. At the very least, such an exercise would have given her greater skill in handling difficult patients.

“It is no trouble,” she emphasised. It was quite the opposite of trouble - without magical aid, Ygraine would take longer to recover. This was not a severe illness, but it was moderate in its toll on the body.

Ygraine was too stubborn to argue with. Nimueh decided to try and compromise. “Of course, you may refuse any treatment you wish,” she said. “But if you would allow me to assess the pace of your recovery?”

She couldn’t disguise her growing impatience, for all that she tried to - Ygraine always seemed to know when the need for etiquette agitated Nimueh’s temper. “As I have said,” she replied. “My recovery is excellent. But you may check, if you wish.”

Well, that was good enough. Once Nimueh was through with this, she could be more firm with the queen, and take more direct steps to encourage the use of a magical remedy.

She carefully withdrew the blankets, and focused her intent upon Ygraine’s organs, sweeping her hand just above the queen’s body to detect how much of the illness remained within her.

But when she passed her hand above Ygraine’s abdomen, Nimueh frowned. The queen was in remarkably good health, considering her fever.

Ygraine had the grace not to look smug about having proved Nimueh wrong, though she did smile.

Nimueh considered the queen. “What treatment has Gaius prescribed?” she asked.

“A tincture of elderberry and rosemary,” Ygraine replied. It was exactly what Nimueh had expected; it was what Gaius had told her when they had discussed the queen’s health this morning. But it shouldn’t have been enough to treat the sickness this quickly. There had to have been something else that Gaius was giving her - or somebody else in the castle was responsible.

Ygraine’s gaze flitted to the closed door and back to Nimueh. She could see the suspicion stark on Nimueh’s face - Nimueh made no effort to hide the emotion, as she thought through the possibilities.

Ygraine beckoned her closer.

Nimueh stayed where she was. “Ygraine, is Gaius using magic?” she asked. “He is permitted to do so, but it would befit me to be informed of this.” It was a bold choice to address a queen as such, but Nimueh pressed on. “I am court sorceress for a reason.”

She expected to be reprimanded, or even sent away. She had surely pushed her luck enough already today. What she did not expect was for Ygraine to sit upright and tug Nimueh close by her sleeve.

Nimueh didn’t move away but yanked her sleeve out of Ygraine’s hand, more bewildered than outraged. “Ygraine,” she hissed, too startled for an appropriate tone of address, “what is the meaning of this?”

“You mustn’t tell anyone of this,” Ygraine warned. And then a flame leapt up from the palm of her hand.

Nimueh stared at it. There was no mistaking it. Ygraine had just summoned fire, with nothing more than her own will.

And she hadn’t uttered a spell to do it.

The flame disappeared as quickly as it had come. Ygraine looked away and crossed her arms over her chest, and it was only now that Nimueh saw that the queen shook with more than just her fever.

She sat at the edge of the bed, not knowing where to begin. She remembered how Ygraine had looked to the door before she had made her move.

“Ygraine…” She knew the answer before she had even asked her question. “Where did you learn to do such a thing?”

Ygraine sighed. She closed her eyes. “I have never learned,” she replied. “I have never been taught.”

“But your magic…” A flame was a relatively basic manifestation of one’s gift, but it wasn’t what Nimueh thought of now. Only magic could have been responsible for Ygraine’s swift healing. It took magic of some skill.

“I cannot always control it,” Ygraine said, finally. “Often, I can, but when it comes to matters such as this, it is as if the magic has a mind of its own.”

Instinctive magic. Ygraine was skilled indeed.

And yet oddly fearful of it. Or, more likely, afraid of another’s reaction to it. What reason could anyone have to fear something so celebrated?

Nimueh would have prayed to the Triple Goddess to be wrong about this, but now that the thought had struck her, she couldn’t erase it. “Ygraine,” she asked, “does Uther know of your gift?”

Slowly, Ygraine nodded. She wouldn’t look at Nimueh again, her gaze distant, upon the door. “He does not permit me to use it.”

_He does not permit me to use it._ The words rang in Nimueh’s ears, again and again, as if she might finally make sense of them if she heard their echo enough times.

“You are the queen,” she said, finally. “You need no man’s permission to use your gifts.”

“It is his wish,” Ygraine said, as if it was that simple. It couldn’t be. What on earth could compel Uther to ban his own wife’s magic? King or no king, where was the sense in it?

Nimueh stepped away from the bed. She knew that she needed to compose herself, to bottle up the emotions that stirred through her now and expel them only when she was not before her queen. She knew what she needed to do.

But that didn’t mean she could convince herself that it was the right thing to do.

“Ygraine, you possess power beyond what most could dream of,” she said. “I may have seen only a fraction of what you can do, but what I can _feel_ of your magic is-” Immense. Exquisite. She had only sensed it for a moment but now that she knew it was there, now that she was attuned to its presence, Ygraine was radiant with her magic.

No wonder Ygraine had such a thirst for magical knowledge. Who wouldn’t, when they contained such wonders within that they could never truly let free?

Nimueh went back to the bed. She knew better than to reach out to Ygraine, still looking so tense. But she couldn’t walk away without at least trying to talk about it. “Had you been raised as an initiate, there would be no question of your strength,” she said. “You would have been a High Priestess. Ygraine, had your gift been detected earlier-”

“Had I not been promised at birth,” Ygraine interrupted. She met Nimueh’s gaze at last, a tired smile on her lips that did not reach her eyes. “Perhaps I could have been like you, Nimueh. Exploring our gifts together on the Isle of the Blessed. But my hand in marriage was promised to King Edward when I was scarcely a day old.”

It was no news to Nimueh that there were kings who sought such young brides to bear their heirs. But…

“But Edward is dead,” Nimueh said. “He had no queen when Uther took his throne.” The engagement should have been over.

“I told you once that it was the courage of my brothers that drew Uther’s eye to me,” Ygraine said quietly. “Tristan and Agravaine didn’t fight just for Camelot. They fought to free me from my impending marriage. Uther believed their aims were honourable, and that is why they were among his most trusted men in the war. But he had a request of my brothers and our family.

“If the war was won and Uther became king, then my betrothal would switch to his hand.”

So there had never been a choice. From one king to the next, Ygraine had been passed along, with no thought given to her own wishes. Nimueh wondered at how Ygraine had such composure each day.

“You may not have been given the opportunities you deserved,” Nimueh said, “but Uther cannot forbid you from using your magic. He _cannot_ , Ygraine, it’s wrong.” A new thought struck her then. “Would he forbid the whole kingdom from doing so?”

Ygraine shook her head. “Of course not,” she snapped. “Uther has no quarrel with magic users.”

“Then why does he forbid you?”

“He does not think it appropriate.”

Nimueh was speechless. What could have been inappropriate about a queen using the gifts that she had been born with? If anything, nothing could have been more appropriate. Ygraine was the queen of Camelot, and she had been blessed by the Triple Goddess accordingly. To lock such magic away was to spit at the gods.

“Ygraine,” she said, trying to soften her voice despite her mounting anger, “surely this is not what you want. You know what you’re capable of; to call your magic inappropriate is nonsense.”

“I must respect Uther’s wishes.”

But there was a trace of uncertainty in Ygraine’s voice. Nimueh pounced on it.

“Respect is mutually earned,” Nimueh replied. “If he will not respect your gift, then how can you respect his restrictions?” Nimueh leant closer. “You must talk with him, Ygraine. I will go with you, you needn’t be alone. Uther must be made to see that he is wrong.”

There was the possibility that they would succeed. Nimueh could feel the hope taking root in her chest, a seed that would surely blossom if only given the chance. Ygraine didn’t have to hide her magic away. She could be a witch and still be a queen also. She would be a queen with extraordinary abilities.

But Ygraine sighed and shook her head. “There is no use in it,” she said. “Uther will not hear it-”

“And I will not hear him!”

Ygraine looked shocked. Nimueh had crossed a line.

She couldn’t bring herself to back down from it. “Punish me if you will,” she said fiercely, “but I will not listen to a man who cages his own wife. You are blessed, Ygraine, and he would see you stifled forever because he cannot stand the fact that you have more strength than he ever will!”

“Nimueh, that’s enough.”

“You shouldn’t listen to him, either. Whatever his reasons might be, he has no authority over you in this, and he’s a hypocrite if he thinks he can dictate your abilities while the rest of his kingdom has free reign to do as they wish with their magic. He’s a fool to even think he can do it. Ygraine, if you would only stand up to him and make him see, you could-”

“I said that’s enough!” Ygraine looked downtrodden, more tired than Nimueh had ever seen her before. “We will not speak of this again,” Ygraine said, as firmly as she could. She sank into the pillows. “I mean it, Nimueh. Never again. Now leave me to my rest.”

What could Nimueh do? She stared at Ygraine, unmoving when the queen closed her eyes and rolled away. There had to be something. Some way of convincing Ygraine to let go of her fear, and embrace the gifts she had been given.

But there was nothing. Nimueh’s mind circled around empty possibilities, and she finally rose to her feet and left the chamber.

****

A month passed. There were no more forest strolls, no more lunches or laughter at the riverbank. Ygraine busied herself with councils and arrangements for seasonal celebrations, while Nimueh attended to her own duties. She made no effort to speak with the queen. Ygraine would scarcely look at her anymore; she certainly would not accept any attempt on Nimueh’s part at conversation.

She shouldn’t have pressed so hard. Nimueh knew that she couldn’t have ignored Ygraine’s magic, but surely there had been a better way for her to approach the matter. She lost herself each night in unravelling the possibilities, the alternate outcomes that she might have reached if she had only considered different words.

There was no use in any of it. Whatever she wished she could have done, Nimueh knew of no magic strong enough to reverse the past. All she could do was wait for the chance that Ygraine might come to her. It felt like a distant hope.

Autumn rains gave way to winter snow, and there was a change within Camelot. It extended far beyond the council halls. Everyone in the kingdom seemed to know of it, to feel the threat of war on the air. An alliance was straining, and no one yet knew of any solution to it.

In December, Uther made his decision. He would journey to Caerleon with a retinue of knights - not an army, the numbers were selected carefully - and parley with the king there.Territories would be disputed, coin and power changing hands. With luck, the matter would fall in Camelot’s favour. But there was no knowing for certain.

The morning of Uther’s departure, the citadel was heaving. There were many from the lower towns who had turned out in the streets to see their king away, and many of the castle servants had found time away from their many tasks to witness his farewell, too.

Nimueh stood at the steps of the castle entrance, close to Ygraine as had been their custom ever since she had arrived. Not even recent disagreements could alter their public appearances, Nimueh had learned that much.

She was distantly aware of Uther’s speech to the gathered subjects. She clapped where others clapped and kept her eyes trained on his crown glinting under the cold sun. If it came to war, she would be expected to take up her spellbook as if it was a sword. She wondered if even war might not be enough for Ygraine’s own gifts to be considered any worth.

She shouldn’t have been so focused on a single woman. It was her duty to look to the entire kingdom, to serve the Triple Goddess and undertake only the tasks that were required of her.

But perhaps it was not only her thoughts that were focused where they should not have been.

No sooner had Uther’s stream of knights departed from the citadel than Ygraine’s hand was brushing against Nimueh’s, a quick and delicate motion that Nimueh would have taken for accident had the touch not lingered.

Nimueh looked from the corner of her eye; Ygraine was looking, too. Her lips didn’t move but there was something pointed in her gaze. She nodded once, a subtle movement that few else would have caught.

Nimueh returned the brush of hands, and Ygraine’s hand opened at the touch, passing a slip of paper into Nimueh’s palm.

Nimueh didn’t dare look at the note until she was within her chambers. The gathering in the main square had taken some time to disperse, some praying for Uther’s safe arrival in Caerleon, while others discussed arrangements for his return in a month’s time. All the while, Nimueh’s fingers had curled tight around the paper slip, her heart beating quicker and quicker with thoughts of what it could mean.

Now, she held the slip up to the sunlight and read the small, careful letters of Ygraine’s message.

_There is a passage in the armoury that leads to the royal gardens. I will be among the chrysanthemums._

Nimueh glanced out of her window. There were only servants and guardsmen to be seen in the main square now. There would be few men in the armoury with the king gone and most of the knights gone with him.

_I will be among the chrysanthemums_. Nimueh had thought that Ygraine desired no further contact with her, beyond the formalities of the court. She had thought Ygraine afraid, perhaps, or affronted by Nimueh’s attempts to encourage her magic. But now…

Nimueh folded the note carefully, as small as it would go. Then she tossed it into the fireplace, not lingering to watch the flames devour it. She clasped a dark blue cloak around her shoulders and pulled the hood over her head, and departed from her chambers.

She kept all senses alert as she moved through the castle. As a High Priestess, her senses were keener than most, and she kept both eyes and ears primed for anyone coming her way. There were few parts of the castle that were closed to a court sorceress, but it would undoubtedly raise some questions to find her in the armoury. Best that nobody encountered her on this path.

Only one person came near. At the sound of their steps, Nimueh focused on the corridor they were in and summoned a blast of energy. Something clattered to the floor, and the footsteps quickly faded back into the distance to see what needed to be fixed. Nimueh moved swiftly on.

The armoury was empty. Nimueh paced quickly through it, sending out slivers of magic to detect any passages that were hidden to her eyes. As it turned out, the passage was in plain sight. It was a locked door.

One whispered spell, and the door swung open. Nimueh waited for the click of its lock behind her before she moved on.

In a few minutes, she could feel the open air, a mild chill that had softened from the morning. She tightened the clasp of her cloak and stepped out into the garden.

She stuck close to the castle walls, keeping a measured pace despite the curiosity that was mounting in her chest. Nobody who looked from a window would be able to recognise her; she had teased the shadows from the walls slightly outward, to better cloak her appearance. If anyone were to see her, they would no doubt assume she was a maid on an errand. The knowledge of her anonymity ought to have reassured Nimueh. The mere fact of her needing to be anonymous, however, only pressed on her mind with increasing concern.

Soon enough - sooner than Nimueh’s racing heart could calm down - the chrysanthemums appeared. They were vibrant even in the midst of winter, supported by magic that Nimueh could feel thrumming in the air. She was only one of the sorcerers maintaining the royal garden. As she stood there gazing at the flowers, a thought occurred to her - could Ygraine’s unconscious magic also have had an effect?

There was only one real way for her to find out. She circled the bush.

Ygraine sat on the other side. Her skirts were swept elegantly beneath her, an unfolded parcel of fruits perched on the grass beside her. She looked up with an apple halfway to her mouth, when Nimueh’s shadow fell upon her.

Unexpectedly, Ygraine smiled.

“Nimueh,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Nimueh sank to her knees without need for prompting. She lowered her hood. She wasn’t entirely sure where to begin. “Why did you wish to see me?”

Ygraine’s smile faltered. She glanced at the unbitten apple in her hand, before she cast it down into her lap and moved to face Nimueh fully. “I wish to apologise,” she said. “For my behaviour when we last spoke. I was unduly harsh to you, Nimueh, and I’m sorry for it. I’m dearly sorry.”

“It is I who should be sorry,” Nimueh countered. “I…” She remembered the rage of that day, how quickly she had lost her temper. “I should not have pushed you so hard. I thought that I could open your mind, but in trying to, I closed my own. I should have listened to you.”

“I think perhaps we both have much to improve on,” Ygraine suggested. Nimueh nodded, and at once Ygraine’s smile bloomed once more like a flower.

“I must confess,” she said, “that although my intent was to apologise here, I do have another motive.”

Nimueh’s attention was caught. “Is that so?”

Ygraine looked down at her hands. Nimueh saw the light there of her magic, like a hearth. “I wish to learn,” Ygraine whispered. “I wish to be myself, Nimueh, truly myself. I wish to know my magic.” Her eyes flickered up, uncertainly. “If you will teach me.”

Nimueh almost felt that she would choke on the emotions that rose up within her. “Of course,” she replied, and it was a strain to keep her voice lower than her excitement. “Of course, Ygraine, there would be no greater honour.”

Ygraine laughed, but Nimueh was sincere. “It is my duty to serve the Triple Goddess,” Nimueh said, earnestly. “She blessed you with magic. To help you master your gifts is what I am trained for.” Her gaze softened. “And you are my friend, Ygraine.”

Ygraine reached across and clasped Nimueh’s hand. “I am fortunate to know you, Nimueh,” she said.

“And I you.” Ygraine didn’t take her hand away, and neither did Nimueh. “Now,” Nimueh began, considering what lay ahead. Uther might have her head if he knew what she was about to do. “If you wish, we could start with elemental magics. I favour water and earth myself…”

So the days and weeks passed. Ygraine held command of the royal council in Uther’s absence, while Nimueh observed or on some days met with druids and priestesses. And when the evenings came, the two met among the chrysanthemums, sharing whispers of magic.

It had been almost three weeks to the day since Uther’s departure, when Ygraine took Nimueh’s hands in hers. It was difficult to shape a magic that had gone untaught for so many years, but Ygraine flourished under Nimueh’s limited tutoring, a remarkable student. Sometimes Nimueh raged inside at it, that someone so gifted should be so held back - and by their wedded partner, of all people. Ygraine deserved to be proud of her magic, to practice it openly.

Sometimes Nimueh raged at it. But most of the time, being the sole witness to Ygraine’s gifts, Nimueh only felt blessed by it.

That evening, Nimueh had hoped to begin teaching Ygraine how to manipulate basic weather, creating light rains for tonight. But she had barely gotten past explaining the first principles of it, when Ygraine smoothed out her skirts and held her palms up to Nimueh.

She looked a little bashful at having interrupted the lesson, but also showed no signs of retreating, meeting Nimueh’s gaze steadily. “If I may have your hands?”

Nimueh was inclined to ask why - but then, Ygraine had already proven before that she was someone to act first rather than explaining. So Nimueh kept her lips pursed, and simply placed her hands on top of Ygraine’s.

Ygraine smiled at the touch, cupping her hands lightly around Nimueh’s. Nimueh did her best to follow suit, hands clasped as if in prayer between Ygraine’s palms. She could feel Ygraine’s pulse against her own, fluttering as quick as a sidhe’s wings.

Ygraine took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Then she murmured a brief spell, and warmth bloomed in Nimueh’s hands.

Ygraine took her hands away. Nimueh unclasped her hands, and curling between her palms she saw a petal. A red gardenia.

Nimueh looked to Ygraine. She didn’t know what she thought to find there - but Ygraine had a look on her face now that was more disappointment than anything else.

“I’ve been practicing it for some nights,” Ygraine said, by way of explanation. “I had hoped to make something better for you-”

“Ygraine,” Nimueh interrupted, feeling her heart in her throat. Something within her flared, and the gardenia petal in her hand jumped. Now there were two.

They both studied the pair. Nimueh knew what the flower meant, and surely a woman as learned as Ygraine knew it, too.

Nimueh had thought that defying the king’s wishes regarding Ygraine’s magic had been dangerous. But this, now, felt more treasonous than anything she had ever done before.

Nimueh looked up at Ygraine. Her lips were parted as though about to speak, but there were no words that came forth. Nimueh could think of no words to say, either.

They didn’t need words. Ygraine moved first, and the petals fell from Nimueh’s palm.

Ygraine’s lips were softer than any flower. She kissed as if she had thirsted all her life for Nimueh, as if she was stepping out of a drought and into the heart of a storm, but for all her desperation, she still felt as light as air in Nimueh’s arms, as diaphanous as the skirts she wore. Nimueh’s hands roamed, pulling her queen into her lap; she felt as if she could have pulled Ygraine right into her, a new kind of devouring, until they wore the same skin. She felt as ravenous as Ygraine’s thirst.

Ygraine broke away for a gasp of air - and at once forgot about breathing, choosing instead to speak. “I had never thought I would love like this,” she said breathlessly, already seeking out Nimueh’s mouth again. “I had never thought that someone like you - that you and I-”

“I love you more than anything,” Nimueh returned. “How could I ever not love you? Ygraine-” Nimueh could have talked all night, she thought, but they had talked more times to count, and there was this now, Ygraine’s kiss, to explore, and Nimueh wanted nothing else.

****

“To four years of marriage,” Uther declared, raising his goblet with a slosh of dark wine. “To my queen and beloved wife. Ygraine!”

“Ygraine!” echoed the banquet hall.

Nimueh hardly tasted the wine. She was too entranced by the vision at the head of the royal table, Ygraine rising to her feet to accept the toast. Her golden dress spilled over her body like water, a silken beauty that even for all its glittering adornments paled next to the woman who wore it. Ygraine beheld the banquet with her head held high, blonde curls tumbling past her shoulders where they had come free of the arrangement on top of her head. There was a flower in her hair, small enough that most might mistake it unless they looked closely enough. A red gardenia.

Ygraine’s gaze swept across the hall. When her eyes found Nimueh’s, the smile that curved her lips was a secret shared between them both, something that nobody else in the room would truly understand. Sometimes Nimueh wondered that no one knew the love between her and Ygraine. It seemed so obvious.

But then, they both knew how to play in public, Ygraine especially. Nimueh wasn’t the queen’s only secret.

Since Uther’s return from Caerleon, the nights in the royal gardens had become few and far between. But they had still found ways to fill a year with their love, and Ygraine’s education in magic, too. Hands that brushed against each other in council meetings, suffused with jolts of enchanted warmth to soothe hearts that were growing weary of all the politics. A dance during a feast, after which Nimueh would find her skirts overflowing with shades of red petals and brilliant orange chrysanthemums.

Sometimes Ygraine would retire to the private chamber, to which Nimueh would attend purely for healing purposes, of course. Sometimes they would find each other in the armoury passage, in fleeting bursts of passion.

It was not the kind of romance that Nimueh wished for. It was not the kind of love that she felt Ygraine deserved. But it was theirs, and that made it something precious to her. Something worth more than anything else.

****

Ygraine hadn’t left her private chamber in days.

Not even Uther had gotten in. Nimueh would have prostrated herself before his throne to see Ygraine - but she hadn’t needed to. Uther had summoned her.

And now, she would face Ygraine. The guards at the door sought to dissuade her, even with the knowledge of the king’s own instructions, but Nimueh would not be dissuaded. She stood firm against their words that Ygraine wished to see no one, and after what felt like an intolerable age, she was through.

The moment that the door shut behind her, Nimueh discarded any sense of decorum and went straight to Ygraine’s bed.

Ygraine scarcely seemed to notice her arrival. She lay curled up on top of the blankets, gazing with a haunted look to the far side of the room. She didn’t move when Nimueh sat down at the edge of the bed, or when Nimueh gently brushed the sweat-damp hair from her brow.

When Nimueh took one of her hands and pressed a kiss to her palm, Ygraine sighed. And then all at once she was moving, rising up to kiss Nimueh’s cheek before just as quickly she was retreating and gesturing to the space beside her. “Lie with me,” she said, and Nimueh did.

Ygraine’s hair smelled like her lavender baths. There was blood under her nails, and a feverish heat at her belly where Nimueh embraced her. She should have been bathing again now, sipping one of Gaius’ potions to stimulate healthy growth. She should have been swelling up with life.

All of that was gone, now.

“I’m sorry,” Nimueh whispered.

Ygraine clenched her hand tight, almost bruising. “There is nothing to be sorry for.”

“I am a High Priestess,” Nimueh replied. “I should have known a treatment, I should have been able to save your child-”

“There are some things even magic cannot do.”

Nimueh didn’t want to believe it. Magic was what had drawn them together, wasn’t it? Ygraine was tempered where Nimueh was fiery, and Ygraine was as compassionate as she was commanding, someone that Nimueh would have loved in any lifetime. But it had been as if their magics were calling out to each other, wanting to be explored together. If magic had done that, had brought their hearts together like this, then what could it not do?

It seemed impossible. But Ygraine sounded resigned to her truth, and there was nothing Nimueh could do to bring back the life that had turned to blood between Ygraine’s legs.

Nothing she could do to bring back that life. But there was the task that she had been given.

“Ygraine, my love,” she began, but Ygraine was quicker.

“Do you know the worst part of it all?” Ygraine asked. Her voice was hollow. “The most terrible part? I don’t even miss it.”

Nimueh stayed very still. “The baby?”

“I don’t miss it,” Ygraine said. “I am upset by it, and it was the most dreadful shock, a terrible thing to happen, but I-” she almost choked on a sob. “I’m almost relieved to have lost it.”

“Ygraine…” Nimueh didn’t know what to say. All she wished was to comfort Ygraine, to heal her and move on from this. But the dread was mounting within her heart.

“When I lost the first, it was the worst moment of my life,” Ygraine murmured. “A waking nightmare. I felt that the gods had cursed me, that they sought to punish me for this-” she gripped Nimueh’s hand close to her chest. “But I didn’t want to lose you, too. I couldn’t bear it. And then the second child…”

“Ygraine, it was not your fault. Not the first, nor the second. And not this one.”

Ygraine sighed. “Sometimes, it feels as if all Uther sees when he looks at me is a broodmare. Is that all I am to him now? Is that all I can be?” She laughed, an empty sound. “Perhaps it is all I deserve. I have never loved him, not in the way that a wife should, and all the while, I have loved another. Why should he have any care for me?

“I don’t have the spirit for it any longer,” she went on. “Three losses, Nimueh. Three. I cannot do it again. I will not.” Her voice turned low and resigned once more. “And he will punish me for it.”

Nimueh felt as if she was standing at the edge of an abyss. “Ygraine,” she said, and she scarcely recognised her own voice. It felt like drifting over her own body. “Do you know why I came here tonight?”

“I…” Ygraine shifted on the bed, her uncertainty at once palpable on the air. “I was not aware you had any reason.”

Nimueh should have had no other reason but her love. The truth felt like poison on her tongue.

“I received a request from the king today,” she said. “Regarding your pregnancies.”

Ygraine rolled over to face her. Nimueh wanted to push her back, to hide from her queen’s face for as long as she could - but that would have been cowardice. Nimueh had never allowed herself to be a coward. She would not do so today.

Ygraine’s eyes gave away nothing. “What has he asked of you?”

A part of Nimueh wished she had never come to this castle. “He wishes for a child,” she answered. “He wishes for me to give you one.”

Ygraine’s hand went to her belly. “Not again,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Uther will do his part,” Nimueh said, even as she felt sick at the thought. At the sight of Ygraine before her, looking so gripped by fear. “Then I will cast the spell. It will ensure that the child is born.” She reached across; Ygraine withdrew sharply. “The pregnancy will endure,” Nimueh said. “The child will _live_.”

“He would sooner see me suffer a thousand times than ever let me rest,” Ygraine breathed. “Nimueh, you cannot do this. I beg you.”

“I do not wish to.” Ygraine looked haunted by her losses, by this new sense of betrayal. Nimueh hated to be the one who put that betrayal in Ygraine’s eyes. “The thought of putting you through that - I would never seek to hurt you, Ygraine.”

“Then don’t.” Ygraine clutched Nimueh’s hands in hers. “There must be another way.”

Nimueh wished there was. Ever since Uther had made his demand, ever since she had begun the long walk from his throne to Ygraine’s private chamber, Nimueh had tried to think of a solution. An escape in the night, an all-out war with the knights. Something that nobody would be able to stop, something that nobody would even see coming.

Uther had seen them. The moment that Nimueh had stepped into the throne room today he had thrown it in her face. The flowers; the love notes that Ygraine had written. The handmade spell book that Nimueh had made for Ygraine’s birthday. He knew it all. And he would destroy it if Nimueh disobeyed him now.

“She is my wife!” he had roared, sword shining in his hand. “How dare you think to take her from me!”

“Perhaps if you had given her a choice, she would have cared for you!”

The tip of the sword had drawn a single bead of blood from her throat. “Take care with what you say,” Uther had said, “or I will have your head.”

If Nimueh didn’t give him a child, it would be Ygraine’s head.

Nimueh remembered how she had railed once at Ygraine, pushing her to stand up to her husband. He is just a man, Nimueh had thought then. Powerless against two witches, both with such immense power.

Uther may have been just a man, but he commanded armies and dragons alike. Would the Isle of the Blessed be a safe haven for them? Nimueh wanted to believe so. But the Isle stood first and foremost for the Triple Goddess, and if Ygraine’s fate did not align with what the Goddess had planned, then there would be no safety for them there.

Nimueh had once thought herself untouchable as a High Priestess. But perhaps Ygraine was right. Perhaps there were some things that magic could not do.

Ygraine would have to go through all of that pain and uncertainty again. And this time Nimueh would have a hand in it. It sickened her. Like a blade twisting in her stomach.

Nimueh didn’t know what her expression showed, but Ygraine reached out at the sight of it, brushing away the tears that Nimueh hadn’t even noticed beginning to fall. The touch was a comfort that Nimueh didn’t feel she deserved. She would have refused it - but Ygraine knew her too well for that. She pulled Nimueh to her, tucking her head beneath Nimueh’s chin. Nimueh couldn’t have let go of her for anything.

“What will it take?”

Nimueh didn’t want to think about it. But she owed Ygraine honesty in this. “Ancient magic,” she replied. Her chest tightened. “A sacrifice.”

“For a life to be given, one must be taken,” Ygraine intoned. Even now, she remembered Nimueh’s lessons well.

Nimueh held Ygraine tight, face buried in blonde curls. She could feel Ygraine’s breath above her pulse, and the faltering warmth of Ygraine’s magic, palms pressed to Nimueh’s heart.

“We will find a way,” Ygraine breathed. “We must.”

And they would. Nimueh swore it in her mind, uttering it like a prayer to the Triple Goddess, challenging Her to refuse it. They would find a way.

****

Ygraine was going to die tonight.

And Nimueh couldn’t tell her.

She dismounted from her horse at the entrance to the main square, ignoring the guardsmen who swore after her back as they hastened to get the horse out of the way. Nimueh ignored everything as she made her way to the castle, staring up at the candlelit window of the queen’s private chamber. Rain lashed against the window and thunder growled overhead, threatening to roar.

The birthing had begun.

Nimueh should have been there for it. It should have been her at Ygraine’s bedside, coaxing her through the contractions and bringing her child into the world. Ygraine shouldn’t have been alone like that, with only the midwives and the king to witness her sacrifice.

And she would have been there, if not for the summons of the High Priestesses. It was a call that could not be ignored. Nimueh had gone as quickly as her magic allowed, tearing across the land until she reached the Isle of the Blessed.

There had been a prophecy.

The seers proclaimed that the sacrifice would be known in the moment that the child entered the world. It would be the child’s first encounter with death. It would happen in that room.

Ygraine was going to die. It was almost poetic, in a way. Giving her life so that she might finally have a child.

Nimueh had screamed when they told her. She had screamed at the seers, at the heavens, at the Goddess Herself, who kept Her cold silence in the face of Nimueh’s grief.

The other High Priestesses had not been silent. It was they who had thrown Nimueh into the waters of the lake and threatened her with banishment when she had tried to rain fire on the holy rowan tree at the centre of the Isle. What good was it now, she had thought, that tree? How sacred could it be when it could not save the woman she loved?

If she tried to wage war on the Isle, they had told her, she would lose. _Return to your queen_ , they had said.

What else could she have done?

The storm had followed her here. The castle was thick with shadows as she strode through it, as dark as a tomb, and almost as quiet. Nobody crossed her path.

She had expected guards, but in the corridor to the private chamber, she found only Gaius. He stood there with his assortment of remedies, should any complications arise. There was a knowing look to his gaze that Nimueh would not meet.

He blocked her path.

“Nimueh,” he said, with his intolerable calm. “You know what it going to happen.”

“Indeed I do,” she returned. Her eyes flashed a golden warning. “And it seems I am the only one prepared to fight it. I hadn’t thought that cowardice would suit you, Gaius.”

“And I have never thought that suicide missions suit you.” His stare hardened. “You cannot stop this, Nimueh. The path has been set. It is in the hands of the gods now.”

“Then the gods may strike me,” Nimueh said. “Until that moment, I will not give up.”

With another flash of her eyes, the door flew open. Gaius made no move to stop her as she walked through.

The door crashed shut, and Uther rose to his feet with a shout. Through the flickering candlelight, Nimueh saw the hatred in his eyes.

“You are not needed here,” he told her. “The spell is done. I have no further use for you.”

“The spell is not done until I say it is.”

He didn’t raise his sword to her as she made her way forward. It was his fear, Nimueh thought. Even now, he was afraid that the magic would not be enough. He wouldn’t get rid of her until he knew for certain that he had the child he so craved.

She didn’t care what he did to her. All of her attention was for Ygraine.

Her eyes flickered weakly at Nimueh’s approach, seeking her out as she gasped around another violent contraction. The midwife was busy at the bottom of the bed, and when Ygraine reached up with one shaking hand, Nimueh took it, pressing a kiss to her palm.

“I… I thought you wouldn’t…”

“I would not miss this,” Nimueh murmured. She held Ygraine’s hand to her heart, feeling the warmth that Ygraine tried to summon. “Don’t waste your energy,” Nimueh said. “Not now.” She concentrated on the feel of Ygraine’s fingers entwined in hers, sending her own magic forth. She could feel the exhaustion in Ygraine’s bones. So fragile, so close to the end. Even if Ygraine didn’t know this was her end, her body knew it.

Nimueh closed her eyes. She had failed. All this way, she had thought she would fight for Ygraine’s life - but now the fight felt suffocating. How could she save Ygraine? Even as a High Priestess, Nimueh’s magic was not without its limits. So much of her was at work already, had been at work for nine months holding this spell together. It would collapse without her continued effort. The child would die, and Ygraine with it. Nimueh couldn’t do it.

The midwife shouted, a distant noise in Nimueh’s ears. The child was crowning.

This was it. Nimueh pressed her lips to Ygraine’s brow. All that she had thought their love could be, and it came to this. This sacrifice. Shame rose up within her, that familiar blade in her stomach.

And then it struck her.

She could not stop the sacrifice.

But she could be the one who made it happen.

She opened her eyes. Ygraine was struggling for breath, her hand starting to slip from Nimueh’s grip. There was a fleeting tightness when she saw Nimueh begin to move away, a wordless plea for her to stay.

Nimueh let her hand fall.

Uther’s attention was fixed upon the child. He was leaning half out of his seat, studying the midwife’s work with bated breath, eyes wide and almost frenzied.

Nimueh’s shadow fell upon him. “Gaius must be summoned,” she said.

At first, Uther didn’t even notice her there. Even when she came close enough to touch, as close as a breath. She was barely more than an insect to him, not worth his attention.

“Your Highness,” she hissed at his ear. “You must fetch the physician.”

The king jolted. He stared up at her, a slow-mounting fury. “I will have the tongue ripped from your mouth,” he said. “Find the physician yourself.”

“No,” Nimueh said. “It will be you.” A sneer curled her lip. “Unless your seed is all that you can contribute.”

“The insolence-!” Uther rose to his feet, murder in his eyes.

It was exactly what Nimueh wanted.

She raised the sword she had stolen from his scabbard, and lightning split the sky as she drove it between his ribs.

The king choked, and his own blood splattered his lips. “What have you done?”

Nimueh withdrew the sword. It clattered to the floor. “For a life to be given, one must be taken,” she said.

“No-” Uther collapsed to his knees. “I am your king! You cannot do this-”

He reached out to grab a fold of her cloak. Nimueh kicked his hand aside, and watched as he slipped to the floor. Behind her, the child had started to cry. She smiled. “You have what you always wanted,” she said. “Goodbye, Uther Pendragon.”

The final breath rattled out of him. And just above the crash of thunder and rain, Nimueh finally heard the voice that she had thought would be lost to her forever.

“Nimueh…”

She went back to her queen. Ygraine’s cheeks were flushed with life, a new steadiness to her breath as she sank into Nimueh’s embrace. She was still weak with exhaustion, and Nimueh supported her weight when she tried to sit upright.

“Nimueh, what of the sacrifice?” Ygraine asked. She looked at the blood on Nimueh’s dress. She clenched Nimueh’s shaking hand. “What of the death?”

“It is done.” And so it was. Nimueh could no longer feel the intricate web of the spell weighing upon her spirit. It was complete.

Ygraine would know the full truth soon enough. All of Camelot would know. What any of them would make of it, Nimueh could not know.

But it was not a future she concerned herself with. Perhaps she had always been fated to strike Uther down on this night; perhaps she had rebelled against the will of the gods, and been rewarded for her audacity. Either way, Nimueh knew that she could take on any threat that came her way.

And before any of that, there was her future with Ygraine. The midwife brought the child to them, cleaned and swaddled, to nestle in Ygraine’s arms. “It is a son, your Highness,” the midwife declared.

A son. Nimueh looked down at him in wonder. His hair was the same bouncing blond as his mother, such a tiny tuft but already a wild mess. And his eyes were Ygraine’s, too.

“He’s beautiful,” she said.

The boy gurgled at the sound of her voice. He looked happy, Nimueh thought. And she felt happy, too.

“What of the child’s name?” the midwife asked.

Nimueh looked to Ygraine - who was looking at her, just as expectantly. Ygraine smiled. “I thought… Arthur?”

He looked like an Arthur. But Ygraine was looking as if she awaited approval.

It was hardly Nimueh’s place to voice approval or otherwise on such a matter. Though, her place had hardly prevented her before.

Ygraine laughed at Nimueh, kissing her cheek. “He’s as much yours as he is mine,” she said. “If you’ll have me.”

As if that could ever have been in question. Nimueh returned the kiss, and then she kissed the child’s forehead for good measure, too.

“Arthur,” Nimueh repeated. “A good name.” A better name. Nimueh would make sure that young Arthur saw a better future than the past he had been made from.

She and Ygraine would make that future together.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://warlockofealdor.tumblr.com)


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